


one way or another (i'm gonna find ya)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, also yeah brandon's a baker what about it, look if ur pairing doesn't have a soulmate au it's just not it, so no soulmate au?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: The guy walks in ten minutes before they close.(Or, Brandon works in a bakery. Adam is his soulmate.)





	one way or another (i'm gonna find ya)

**Author's Note:**

> one more prompt for the road, anyone? 
> 
> #26. "Can I get you something?" from [this](https://hellsdemonictrinity.tumblr.com/post/167780256210/angstfluff-prompt-list-5) list
> 
> yeah they're soulmates in a bakery. what else do you want.
> 
> title from "one way or another" by blondie

The guy walks in ten minutes before they close, the bell over the door cheerfully announcing his entrance.

Brandon considers going into the kitchen and hiding, since he really wants to go home as soon as possible. He sighs, scratches at the edge of his leather wristguard. 

He stands up from behind the display counter, where he’d been counting the shortbread, a greeting on his lips that dies when he sees the man across from him. Brandon thinks, briefly, that he should go hide in the kitchen anyway. This guy is, like. Ridiculously his type.

“Hi,” Brandon says, a little faint. He winces. The guy stares at him, blue eyes looking a little startled. Brandon clears his throat. “Can I get you something?”

“Can I get, uh, I have a list?” The guy pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, hands it to Brandon. Brandon absolutely does _not_ notice the way his skin tingles when their fingers brush.

Brandon’s in the back getting a box for everything when his brain comes back online and he realizes what just happened. He drops the box.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, out loud.

“Uh, everything okay?” he hears the guy call.

“Fine.” Brandon’s voice comes out a few octaves higher than normal. He claws at the buckles of his wristguard, hands shaking enough that it’s difficult to open it. It falls to the floor and the words stare back at him.

 _Can I get, uh, I have a list?_ Brandon knows what the words mean as well as anybody. He also, unfortunately, knows what it means that the guy didn’t react at all to what Brandon said to him.

One-sided soulbonds are almost unheard of, but they do happen. Nobody knows why, most people just deciding to call it a _cosmic mix-up_ and leave it at that. Brandon never thought he’d have to deal with one.

He takes an unsteady breath in, exhales with a shuddery sigh. His eyes sting. Growing up, he’d always been hopeful that one day he’d meet his soulmate and they would live, well. He always imagined it as _happily ever after._

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

Putting his wristguard back on, Brandon gets a new box, makes sure his face isn’t going to give anything away, and goes back out into the shop.

The guy is leaning over the display case like a little kid, eyes wide.

“Dude,” he says, sounding amazed, “they’re little jets!” He’s pointing at the cookies Brandon had made as an experiment, iced to look like the Jets logo.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs. “It’s Winnipeg, so.” The guy nods in understanding. It’s hard to be in Winnipeg for any length of time and _not_ notice how much the city loves their team.

Brandon starts wrapping all the stuff on the guy’s list in silence.

“So, uh. Are you from here?” Brandon jumps, surprised. Most customers don’t try to talk to him when he’s making their orders, much less start a conversation about _him._

“Nah, I’m from Toronto,” Brandon answers. He hesitates for a second. “You?” He looks up just in time to catch the guy’s delighted smile, then has to look down again to hide his blush.

That kicks off a conversation that continues until well after Brandon has finished packing up the box, and even after the store has technically closed.

Brandon learns that the guy--Adam, he introduces himself--was born in the States, raised in Calgary, and lived in St. John’s before coming to Winnipeg. They commiserate over the misery of Manitoba winters, and find out that they’re both Jets fans, to which Adam says offhandedly, “You should come to a game with me some time,” which startles Brandon so much that he almost cuts his finger with the scissors trying to get the ribbon.

Like, they’ve just met, Brandon _knows_ this guy is his soulmate, and Adam’s already asking him out to hockey games. Instead of being reasonable and pointing that out, Brandon says, “Sure,” and slides the box over the counter while Adam fumbles with his wallet. He pauses before he pays, though.

“Actually, can I get one of those, too?” he asks, pointing at the Jets cookies. He grins. “Just for the road.” Brandon shakes his head when Adam gets his wallet out again.

“On the house,” he says, laughs softly at Adam’s face when Brandon passes him the cookie. “I’m technically closed anyway, don’t worry.” At that, Adam looks both guilty and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to, uh, keep you or anything.” Brandon waves off his apology.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Not like I’ve got to be anywhere. Or anyone to see.” He looks at Adam’s face carefully, trying to see if he noticed what Brandon was trying to put out there. Brandon catches him ducking his head to hide his face, which. What does _that_ mean? Brandon thinks about how his first word to Adam had been “ _Hi_ ,” and curses himself for being so stupid.

Then again, that was at least fifty percent Adam’s fault for being so, like. The way he is.

When he was a teenager, Brandon used to doubt whether someone could fall in love with their soulmate when they first met, even if they did know. Now, though. Brandon knows he was wrong.

 _Love at first sight_ sounds so childish, so ridiculous, that Brandon had never thought he would experience it, but.

Brandon swallows hard and gives Adam the box. When Adam reaches out to take it, his sleeve pulls back just enough that Brandon can see the edge of a black wristguard. His mouth goes dry.

He’s got a chance, maybe.

 _Or,_ the traitorous part of his mind reminds him, _he’s already found his_ real _soulmate and--_

“Thanks,” Adam says, and he smiles at Brandon, soft and sweet. “I’ll see you around?” He looks hopeful.

“I’ll be here,” Brandon says, then tries not to cringe at himself. He isn’t usually like this around guys, so he’s pretty sure that it’s just Adam.

Adam grins at him anyway.

He also runs into the door when he shoots a last look over his shoulder at Brandon.

They both stand there, stunned into silence, for a long moment. Adam’s face keeps getting redder. Brandon tries not to let how endearing he thinks that is show on his face.

“Um.” Adam looks at him. Brandon looks back. “Did I just--”

“Yeah,” Brandon says, his voice wavering a little from trying not to laugh. Adam’s blush is, like. Really cute. Brandon despairs.

Adam covers his face with one hand, and tries to use his foot to open the door. It doesn’t work. “Stop looking at me!” he cries, but he’s laughing, too. When he drops his hand and meets Brandon’s eyes again, they both lose it, Brandon almost crying with laughter over the counter. Every time they look at each other again, it sets them off anew, until Brandon’s stomach hurts from laughing and Adam has to set the box down on a table so he doesn’t drop it.

Finally, they get themselves under control, and Adam smiles at him helplessly, his face bright and open. For a moment, it looks like Adam wants to say something, but instead he comes back to the counter. Brandon has a pen beside his cash register, and Adam picks it up, uncaps it. He reaches out his hand expectantly.

Brandon extends his own, hovers uncertainly over Adam’s hand for a second. Adam takes his hand and flips it, then starts writing something on Brandon’s bare forearm.

Earlier, when Brandon’s fingers brushed against Adam’s, it hadn’t been for long enough that Brandon could, like. Notice.

Now, Brandon can feel how warm and dry Adam’s palm is, the rough calluses, and his firm but gentle grip. Brandon feels his face heat up. He swallows hard when Adam lets go.

“Bye,” Adam says, softly. Brandon watches him collect his box. This time, he doesn't hit the door on his way out. Brandon sighs, then twitches when he realizes he sounds like a pining teenager from some shitty rom-com.

He looks at his arm, finally. What he reads makes him wonder, for a moment, if he’s dreaming.

Adam had written his name and phone number, but after his name he’d drawn a little heart and three _X_ s in a row. Brandon unbuckles his wristguard again, holds his forearms side by side. He doesn’t _need_ to, he knows his words as well as his own handwriting, but. Seeing it, now, Adam’s handwriting on both his arms, _knowing_ Adam said his words--Brandon slides down to sit on the floor and tips his head against the wall.

So he found his soulmate. His soulmate who didn’t show any sign of recognizing Brandon as his, but is clearly at least a little bit interested in him. His soulmate who has words of his own.

Brandon decides he’s not going to let Adam slip through his fingers.

 

That night, when he’s getting ready to go to sleep, Brandon texts Adam.

_hi :)_

_this is brandon_  

He winces a little at the smiley face, wondering if it was too much. He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer, though.

_omg hi!!! :D_

Adam’s reply startles a laugh out of him.

_the boys loved ur stuff!!_

Adam follows that up with a picture of a few young guys, each of them holding at least one cookie or pastry. Brandon feels oddly touched.

His phone buzzes, and he sees that Adam’s sent him another picture, this one a selfie, of him holding the Jets cookie up to his face. He’s grinning.

If Brandon saves it to his phone, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

 

The next day, an hour before Brandon closes shop for the night, Adam comes back. 

The shop is empty, since it’s always busiest in the mornings, so Brandon’s in the back kitchen washing dishes when the bell chimes to announce someone’s entrance.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Adam, hands tucked into his pockets and snow in his hair.

“I didn’t want to keep you here late again,” Adam says. “I wanted to ask you if--you--” Adam stares at his arm. “That’s--” Brandon looks down at his arms, still damp from the dish soap.

He’s not wearing his wristguard.

Brandon covers the words, feeling like an _idiot_ for taking his wristguard off. Even if he was alone, he should know better, and now--now Adam knows.

“I was, um. Going to tell you,” Brandon says. Adam steps up to the counter, reaches out a hand. It’s shaking, just a bit.

“Can I see it?” His eyes are wide and uncertain. Brandon hesitates for a second, then holds out his arm. Adam’s fingers brush over the letters, making them both shiver. “It’s,” Adam swallows hard, “It’s my handwriting.” Adam stares at his arm for another long moment, then jumps, unbuckles his own wristguard.

 _Hi,_ Brandon’s handwriting reads.

“That’s terrible,” Brandon blurts, and immediately regrets it when Adam withdraws his arm, looking hurt. “No, I mean,” he gestures at his own arm, then at Adam’s, “you gave me something easy. How many people have said _hi_ to you when you meet?” Adam relaxes, laughs a little.

“A lot,” he says. “Stopped noticing after a few years, because I _figured,”_ he levels a stern look at Brandon, “my _soulmate_ would be paying attention.”

“I was paying attention!” Brandon says. “I went in the kitchen and freaked out over it because I thought it was one-sided!” Adam looks suitably chastised.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I wouldn’t want to ask either,” he says. “Because, uh.” Adam stops and stares at Brandon, shocked. “Dude,” he says. “We’re _soulmates.”_

“Holy shit,” Brandon says, because he’d known, but he hadn’t, like. _Known._ His voice goes high pitched enough that he’d be embarrassed if it was any time other than this moment, meeting his soulmate properly.

Moving very carefully, Brandon goes around the counter, walks past Adam, and turns the lock on the door. He makes sure the sign reads _Closed,_ then turns back to Adam. He clears his throat. It sounds very loud in the silence of the shop.

“Do you want to, uh. Go upstairs?”

“Yeah.”

Brandon thinks, as they make their way upstairs, that he’d never told Adam that he lives in the apartment over the bakery, and that Adam was either basically trusting him not to have a weird murder attic or he knew, somehow, in the same way that sometimes Brandon’s parents would know things that only the other could have known.

He amends that to _definitely,_ because the second they get into the apartment, Adam’s moving around like he’s been there a thousand times before, hanging up his coat and putting his boots into the closet, then going into the living room.

Brandon waits a beat, then two.

“Wait!” Adam yells from the other room. “I’ve never been here before!” Brandon snorts and goes after him, finds him sitting on the couch with a startled expression on his face. Brandon sits next to him.

“It’s a soulmate thing, I think,” Brandon says. “My parents would do it, like. If I did something bad and my mom saw, my dad could yell at me about it later without even talking to her.” Adam looks impressed.

“Like, mind-reading?” he asks. Brandon shakes his head.

“Just intuition, I think. You know, that feeling, like--” Brandon feels a tickle on his arm and notices that Adam’s started tracing his fingers over his words again. “Uh, like.” Brandon coughs, then notices Adam’s smug face. “Shut up,” he says. Adam’s grin widens.

“Get dinner with me,” Adam says suddenly. It doesn’t really sound like a question, but since Brandon knows that Adam knows what his answer is going to be, he doesn’t really need to ask. “I know we going to have, like, the rest of our lives--” And _fuck_ if that doesn’t make something warm settle in Brandon’s chest, “--but I want to take you out, fuck.”

Brandon takes his hand and runs his fingers over Adam’s word, smiling. He leans up and kisses him once, softly, and Adam looks at him with stars in his eyes. Brandon laces their fingers together.

 _The rest of our lives,_ Adam said.

Brandon says yes.

**Author's Note:**

> tried some comédie in this one but like. you guys already know everything i try to write ends up gross and sweet at the end don't you.
> 
> and yeah adam was full ready to ask brandon out when he came back, so really everything worked out
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


End file.
